The sea did not rush back.
That was what terrified them most.
Water was supposed to obey weight and absence. It was meant to collapse into itself, to reclaim any space it was denied. Yet beneath the platform, the ocean held its distance, pulled back as if restrained by an unseen hand.
The exposed depths shimmered in dim blue light. Stone arches emerged first—ancient, curved, unmistakably shaped by design rather than chance. Broken pillars followed, their surfaces carved with symbols worn smooth by centuries of water and pressure.
Ruins.
Not myths.
Not heresy.
Reality.
Panic spread across the platform in waves faster than any tide. People screamed prayers to gods they suddenly doubted. Wardens shouted orders no one followed. The chains groaned overhead, their vibration deepening into something that felt disturbingly like anticipation.
Kael stood at the edge, unmoving.
The relic burned in his palm now, its warmth sharp, almost painful. The soil pulsed faintly, as if responding to the exposed stone below. He could feel a pull—not downward, but forward, like a door left ajar too long.
Behind him, a blade scraped free of its sheath.
"Step away from the edge," the Warden commanded. His voice shook. "By decree of the Order of the Tide, you are under arrest for destabilization of—"
The chain snapped.
Not one of the great sky-chains—those held. For now.
It was a secondary anchor line, thick as a ship's mast, connecting the platform to a lower structure. The moment it broke, the city lurched violently. Screams turned sharp, animal. Kael staggered, catching himself just short of the abyss.
The sea responded.
Not with rage.
With motion.
The withdrawn waters began to rotate, forming a slow, massive spiral beneath the platform. Currents twisted inward, dragging light and debris down into the exposed ruins. The stone arches vanished one by one as the ocean reclaimed its secrets.
"No," Kael whispered.
Not yet.
He made his choice.
Before the Wardens could reach him, Kael stepped forward and jumped.
The fall was shorter than he expected.
Water embraced him instantly, shockingly warm compared to the night air. The spiral current seized his body, pulling him downward with controlled force—not crushing, not violent. Purposeful.
Kael did not fight it.
He held the relic tight to his chest and let the sea take him.
Darkness closed in, but it was not empty. Shapes moved beyond the limits of vision—vast silhouettes gliding through the deep. Bioluminescent veins flickered along ancient walls as the ruins revealed themselves fully beneath the water.
A city.
Not floating.
Not chained.
Built.
Streets stretched between fallen towers. Doorways yawned like empty mouths. Statues lay broken in the silt, their faces eroded but unmistakably human.
Land architecture.
The current slowed, releasing Kael gently onto stone.
He landed on his feet.
Breathing.
The realization struck him seconds later. He inhaled sharply—and air filled his lungs. Thin, cold, but real. The water hovered above him like a suspended ceiling, held back by invisible force.
A pocket.
A sanctuary.
Kael staggered, coughing more in disbelief than necessity. The relic's warmth intensified, radiating outward. The soil glowed faintly, illuminating the chamber around him.
He was standing inside a dome carved with symbols matching those on the ruins above—spirals, broken chains, stylized waves pierced by lines descending from the sky.
The truth hit him with brutal clarity.
This city had been built after the chains.
Someone had known.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Kael spun, blade raised.
A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, wrapped in layers of dark fabric stiffened by salt and mineral deposits. Their face was partially obscured by a mask of polished bone etched with tide-mark symbols.
"You took your time," the figure said calmly.
Kael froze.
The voice was human.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure removed the mask.
She was older than him, her skin weathered and pale, hair bound tight against her scalp. Her eyes, however, were sharp and unnervingly clear—deep green, reflecting the glow of the relic.
"Someone who wasn't refused," she said. "Someone who was left behind."
Kael's grip tightened. "You shouldn't exist."
She smiled faintly. "Neither should you."
She gestured to the relic. "You felt it, didn't you? The way the sea recoils. The way it remembers."
Kael swallowed. "What is this place?"
"The first lie," she replied. "Or the last truth. Depends who you ask."
She stepped closer, boots scraping stone. "This was a ground-city. One of many. Built after the chains were raised, when humanity realized the sea was not a god—but a warden."
Kael's pulse thundered in his ears. "A warden for what?"
Her gaze lifted toward the suspended water above.
"For what sleeps beneath it."
The dome shuddered.
A low vibration rippled through the ruins, deep enough to rattle bone and stone alike. The water ceiling trembled, light fracturing as pressure built from below.
The woman's expression hardened.
"They felt you jump," she said. "And now they're listening."
Kael felt it too.
Not the sea this time—but something older, heavier. A presence pressing upward against the barrier, testing it.
"What are they?" Kael asked quietly.
The woman replaced her mask.
"Gods," she said. "Mistakes. Memories."
Another tremor struck the dome.
Far above, the chains screamed.
"And they are waking up," she finished.
Kael looked down at the relic in his hand, its glow now blazing.
For the first time in his life, the sea had not refused him.
It had delivered him.